


What I Do to You (Is What You Do to Me)

by thedisgruntledone



Series: Unfair Exchange [7]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Disturbing Themes, Episode: s02e10 Naka-Choko, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, Murder, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-08
Updated: 2014-06-11
Packaged: 2018-02-03 22:33:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1758619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thedisgruntledone/pseuds/thedisgruntledone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will finally takes a step in the direction of Lecter’s choosing, much to the Doctor’s obvious pleasure. But perhaps this time it is Lecter who will find that when he wins, he also loses. The battle isn’t over yet, and for the first time things might be progressing in Will’s favor.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you guys so much for the comments and kudos on everything so far. Every time I get a new one, I smile for the rest of the day. :D

Killing Randall Tier was a revelation.

The revelation was not, however, that he _could_ kill. Will had always known that he was capable of it – he’d managed with Garret Jacob Hobbs, although that death had haunted him through dreams and wakefulness alike since. Still, that experience had taught him that he could, in fact, pull the trigger if need be. He could take a life if there were no other option left to him.

What killing Tier had taught him was that in certain circumstances, he could come to enjoy it, perhaps even crave it. Superimposing Lecter’s face on Tier as he’d pummeled him to death had been the most satisfying feeling of his life, and Will was certain that if he did so with any person he killed, he would never grow tired of it.

Strange, then, how relieved he’d been to come out of his mind and realize that it was not in fact Hannibal Lecter’s life he had taken after all. He’d been almost light headed with it, and that worried him. He did not like knowing that a part of him would not relish Lecter’s death, definitely did not like the feeling that the part of him that would inevitably mourn him was larger than he had believed it to be.

He’d managed also to gain a new appreciation for the sick tableaus that Lecter had so often arranged as the Ripper – getting Tier to his house in the middle of the night was nearly more than Will’s nerves could take. He’d been paranoid the entire time that he was going to be caught with the body, arrested, and placed behind bars once again – it had taken more courage than he wanted to admit to haul Tier’s body into Lecter’s home. Will couldn’t imagine how Lecter managed to display his kills so intricately without fear of being seen – wasn’t sure he wanted to.

It had all been worth it to see the look on Lecter’s face when he saw the body on his dining room table, however – the brief moment of surprise quickly covered up. Lecter hadn’t expected Will to drag his kill to his table like a cat asking for praise from its master. That Will had done so pleased him immensely, which he made no effort to hide, and Will felt an answering pleasure in his chest, a happiness at Lecter’s approval that disturbed him even as it warmed him.

“At first I thought you’d sent him to kill me,” Will admitted when Lecter didn’t say anything, merely stared at Tier’s body, mouth slightly turned up. “The outcome would have worked out splendidly for you no matter how it ended. Either Randall Tier rids you of an enemy or I rid the world of him, taking one step closer to becoming the man you think I should be.”

“Are you my enemy, Will?”

Will smiled. “Close enough.”

A sigh. “I had thought we were past this, finally. That you had finally learned to trust me again.”

“The two things aren’t mutually exclusive, Doctor. I do trust you to be exactly what you are.”

“And that is?”

“Curious, mostly. I originally assumed that curiosity was to see who would triumph when you set Tier after me, because I believed as I said that whatever the result, it would be beneficial for you. I was wrong.”

Will moved around the table and stepped towards Lecter, pulled towards him despite himself. Lecter finally looked up from Tier’s body to meet Will’s gaze as he came to a stop just in front of him. Will’s breathing was fast, shallow – he felt out of control. He was half-hard, and he knew that Lecter could tell, and that he was in a similar state. How he knew this he could not say, but the thought did not scare him, merely ramped his arousal up even further.

“You didn’t send Tier to kill me – that was never your design. The intended outcome was always for me to kill him, and the curiosity you felt was to know how I would do it. What I would imagine. What I might do, after.”

Lecter smiled. “It would seem my curiosity has been satisfied, then, except for one point. Tell me, Will, how you killed him. Did you use your hands?”

Will swallowed hard. He brought his hand up and looked at his knuckles, which were raw and sore, still bleeding slightly, the cuts aggravated from moving Tier’s body. “It was…intimate,” he whispered, thinking back to how it had felt, to pummel that sharp face, to lose himself for a time in the desire to rip something apart.

Lecter’s gaze shifted to his hand, he reached out and pulled it closer, studying the wounds. “As it should be, the first time,” he finally said, and looking up to meet Will’s eyes, he raised the bloodied knuckles to his lips.

He pressed a light kiss to the abused flesh, and Will’s mouth opened in a silent gasp. He shuddered lightly at the sensation, both painful and comforting. Lecter pulled away, absently licking Will’s blood off of his lips as he did, and Will let out a soft noise as he went from half to fully hard in the space of a second. His feet moved of their own accord, meaning to close the distance between the two of them so that he could press them together, to find out if Lecter was just as aroused as he was or if he was imagining the dilated pupils, the shortness of breath.

Lecter didn’t give him that chance; he moved as Will did, retaining his grip on Will’s hand and pulling and pushing him until he was seated at the head of the table, leaving him there briefly to get something to clean and dress his hand. He was gentle with the wounds, careful not to bring Will any more pain than necessary, and Will felt himself start to drift. He was still hard, but that was secondary to the comfort of having someone look after him so tenderly. That it was Lecter who was doing so was not lost on him, but Will couldn’t help relishing the feeling of being cared for, all the same.

Lecter, perhaps sensing that Will was on the verge of drifting, cautioned him against going away, asked him to stay. Will nearly laughed at the absurdity of the request – where else could he go? He had set events in motion that could not be taken back – until Lecter was proven to be the monster that Will knew him to be, he was the only one Will could turn to. Bringing Tier to him instead of calling the police had ensured that, and Lecter knew it.

There was silence for some time. Lecter watched Will and Will kept his gaze on Tier’s body, pretending not to notice that Lecter had not let go of his hand, was in fact stroking it softly. He liked the touch, and acknowledging it would cause it to stop. He didn’t want that. Finally Lecter sighed.

“As much as I appreciate the gift you’ve given me, Will, I must insist that we get it off of my dining room table. Have you decided how you are going to honor Randall Tier for the gift he has given you?”

“Yes.” His answer was barely audible, but Lecter was very close; he heard it with a smile.

“Very good. I’ll look forward to seeing it.” And with that Will was dismissed. Lecter let go of his hand and stood, hesitated next to him a moment before reaching out and cupping Will’s face, turning it up so that he could place a soft, reverent kiss to his forehead. Will tilted his head up farther, angling for a real kiss, reminded that he was still ridiculously turned on, but Lecter stepped away, his hand sliding from Will’s cheek.

Without so much as a glance back at Will he picked up the supplies he’d used to tend to his hand and exited the room, leaving him to deal with Tier alone. Will looked at the body and sighed heavily, rubbing at his temples. He had half hoped that he wouldn’t have to do this part, but he had known that it was a vain one. Of course Lecter would require a display to show that Will was sliding into the black chasm he’d been so kind as to open up underneath his feet. He needed to believe that Will was falling willingly, and the only way to prove it would be to make a show out of his first kill, a macabre tableau that would pay homage to Lecter’s dark design even as it showcased Will’s own. Will sighed again. There was no use putting off what had to be done, and he had to move quickly if he wanted to complete his work before dawn. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos on the first chapter. You guys are so awesome!

Displaying the body cooled his ardor, at least. Peeling Tier’s skin from his body and combining it with the skeleton he’d been working on before he’d been sent to Will as some twisted sort of present did not give him the thrill that killing had, and Will found himself going away as Lecter had said he would want to, letting his hands do the work while in the back of his mind he waded into the cold stream and began to fish. He checked in with the real world only enough to make sure that his design was emerging correctly, and firmly ignored the emaciated man-thing that watched him coolly from the opposite bank of his stream.

When it was done he went back home and poured himself two fingers of whiskey. He downed it and poured another straight away. Now that it was all over and done with he felt dirty, and it wasn’t due to the blood and sweat on his skin. He was stained, now, unclean in a way that he couldn’t erase with hot water and soap.

Getting rid of the physical marks was a relief. He stood under the shower for a long time, letting the hot water sluice over his skin. His hand throbbed. He’d reopened the cuts on his knuckles taking care of Tier, and the water hitting them made stung painfully. He flexed his hand, and recalled the feeling of Lecter holding it, cleaning his wounds and handling him with a tenderness he was not used to. Will closed his eyes. That touch had felt good, almost better than any other touch he’d received from him, and it had nothing to do with sex, and everything to do with how nice it was to be cared for, even if that care was the result of a plan coming to fruition at last.

Will stepped out of the shower, the combination of steam, alcohol and loss of adrenaline making him feel light headed with exhaustion. He stumbled his way to the bed, not bothering with clothes or even drying himself as he fell on it ungracefully, burying his face in his pillow and closing his eyes.

He let his mind wander, too sleepy to try and focus. Half formed flashes of memory played out behind his eyelids as he drifted off. His last conscious memory was of a gentle hand holding his, fingers softly stroking his torn knuckles with something like reverence.

_In his dream, they were back in Hannibal’s kitchen, Randall Tier on the table. Hannibal was once again raising Will’s hand to his mouth, kissing the wounds softly. As before, he licked his lips, but this time Will did not simply stare at him while he did. Instead he lunged forward, put his mouth on Hannibal’s and chased the lingering taste of his blood. His hands slid up into Hannibal’s hair to hold his head as he continued to kiss him. He was so hard, so hard, and he couldn’t stop._

_Hannibal submitted as he’d never done in the waking world, opening his mouth and succumbing to Will’s hunger with a sharp inhale. Hands grasped his hips and tugged him forward against and erection that had to be as painful as his own. Will gasped and released Hannibal’s mouth; one of his hands fisted in the hair it held and jerked Hannibal’s head to the side so that he could attack his neck with teeth and tongue, thrusting his hips into Hannibal’s sharply. He’d never been so turned on in his life – already he was close to coming, and they hadn’t even gotten their clothes off._

_He was given a shove, and then they were both on the table, Tier’s body having vanished. They were unclothed, and Will arched up gratefully into the naked body above him, hooked his ankles around Hannibal’s for leverage and ground up into him, delirious with want. A sweet ache had settled right above his groin, the pleasurepain increasing the harder he pushed against Hannibal. He was so close, so close…his eyes closed, neck arching as one of Hannibal’s hands slid between his legs, one of those wonderful fingers sliding into him and driving him that much closer to climax. The other hand found his damaged one, removed if from his hair and brought it to his mouth again. He began to suck on Will’s abused knuckles, removing every trace of blood, and Will cried out, so close to his orgasm he could almost taste it. He pushed harder against Hannibal, chasing it, loving it in a way he could never admit while awake._

_“See.” The voice came from his right, and unwillingly Will opened his eyes and glanced over, expecting the ever present Garret Jacob Hobbs to be watching the proceedings with his dead eyes, face wreathed in a grotesque parody of amusement._

_Instead he found Randall Tier, a half man-half skeleton creature staring at him knowingly. He lifted one arm and gestured with prehistoric claws, and Will saw._

_The table they were on was covered in rotting flesh, bloody carnage on every side. Maggots slid in and out of exposed meat, writhing and gorging themselves on a dinner from hell. Flies buzzed over plates that contained more of the same. Wine glasses were overfilled with blood, enough so that some slid down the sides. The smell of dead fruit and flesh was overpowering, and Will gagged._

_In the middle of all this carnage they lay, Will and the creature on top of him, still twisting together, trapped in a cloud of lust and obsession. He stared up into the creature’s eyes and saw for the first time that they were filled with an insatiable hunger, one that would never be satisfied, not with all the sex and food and blood in the world. The thing atop him would never stop, would ravage and kill and eat and destroy everything it came into contact with, until it was put down. Will’s mouth fell open as he stared into those starving eyes, tumbled into the fathomless darkness and was lost._

_The creature saw this; it gave a triumphant smile against his knuckles and then bit down, ripping the flesh from his hand with a low groan that sounded like the end of the world._

Will woke as his orgasm slammed through him, a scream of mingled pleasure and terror lodged in his throat. His hands clenched into fists in his sheets as his body arched off of the bed; his eyes rolled back into his head and his vision whited out briefly. When it was over, he lay there, trembling, feeling the sweat cool on his body and willing himself to let go of his death grip on his bedding. His hands did not want to move for some time. When he could finally force them to release their death grip, he slid off of the bed and stripped it, purposefully avoiding looking at the evidence of just how his nightmare had affected him.

The last thing he wanted was to try to sleep again – the very thought of returning to his bed made him shudder in revulsion. Yet to stay awake would inevitably mean that he had to think about his dream and what it meant, and he didn’t want to do that either. There was nothing mindless that he could use to distract himself – the last boat he’d fixed up had been weeks before, and his lure making habit had been tainted by Lecter’s use of it to frame him for murder – and even if there had been, he wasn’t positive that his mind wouldn’t keep turning back to his dream again and again, worrying at it like a sore tooth.

He’d liked it. In his dream he’d been a writhing, helpless mess, focused only on his pleasure and nothing else. He knew what Lecter was, and it hadn’t stopped him. Thee’d been no coercion, no allowing Lecter to begin their game – it had been all Will. He knew that dreams couldn’t necessarily be controlled – the awareness that it was a dream didn’t mean that the outcome could be influenced – but he was disturbed, still, by the way he’d felt. He’d thought of Lecter as _Hannibal_ , something he had thus far been very careful to avoid. He had craved the feeling of his hands on him. He’d ached to be closer even when they were pressed skin to skin. Awake, he was ashamed of that desire, ashamed and sickened but mostly terrified, terrified that those feelings were real, and not just a product of the dream. They’d been real once before, after all.

Will shuddered, thought about his half empty whiskey bottle. It would be so easy to drink the dream away, at least for the moment. Let the alcohol send him to sleep, and deal with the consequences in the morning. Reluctantly he put the thought out of his mind. Drinking wouldn’t solve his problems, could very quickly become another one of them if he let it, but sometimes it was so tempting.

In the end he stayed awake, washed his sheets and then went out to his shed, where he had stored the pieces of Randall Tier that he hadn’t needed for his display. He realized with some amusement that despite what Lecter might think, he’d actually make a pretty awful murderer, because he had no idea what to do with the rest of the body. He could think of several ways to dispose of it, but a part of him wanted to hang on to it, just in case. Will found himself grinning at the thought, morbidly amused. He’d never considered himself much of a pack rat, but it would figure that the tendency would come out in relation to body parts. Still, he decided, better safe than sorry. He might be able to get some more use out of it before everything was said and done. He would padlock the shed, and make sure that no one entered it. He placed the body at the bottom of his freezer, then covered it with fish. It would have to do for the moment. That done, he returned to the house and waited for Jack’s call. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again to all those who have commented and kudosed thus far. :D

Will’s phone rang as he was preparing to leave.

“Will,” Dr. Lecter said, sounding harried, “I’m afraid that I am going to have to cancel our appointment for today. Normally I wouldn’t dream of doing so on such short notice, but something has come up that I simply must attend to. I do hope that you will forgive me this one discourtesy, and that I will see you next week?”

Will clenched his teeth, but replied pleasantly enough. “That’s fine, Doctor. I’ll see you next week.”

“Thank you, good Will.” Lecter drew an audible breath, as though he was about to say something else, hesitated and then offered up instead a polite farewell before ending the call.

Will placed his phone on his desk, brow furrowed, wondering what sort of pressing emergency could possibly cause Lecter to cancel their usual round of games. He pretended that the feeling curling through him wasn’t disappointment, that he hadn’t been looking forward to whatever might happen in Lecter’s house that night.

Going over his own crime scene had been far too thrilling with Lecter by his side, ramping up their game with each look and gesture. He’d been pleased by Will’s homage to Tier, by his vision for a man that had wanted so badly to be a beast. He had been able to fill Lecter’s pleasure in every look, every small gesture, and knowing that he had managed to surpass even Lecter’s expectation of him had made a small part of him leap with joy. Will hated that part of himself, but he couldn’t deny that knowing how he was affecting Lecter made him feel powerful. It had been far too easy, with Lecter right there, to ignore his nightmares and focus solely on that feeling of power.

Jack, for his part, had been less than pleased. Will hadn’t let him know what he’d done so that his shock at the death would be natural, but he wasn’t a dumb man, and it hadn’t taken him long to figure out just who had been responsible for Randall Tier’s demise. The dark glances he’d kept throwing at Will had promised a lecture, but he’d managed to avoid one by dodging into one of the museum’s bathrooms straight after viewing the body, claiming a queasy stomach.

He’d half expected Jack to follow him, and wasn’t very surprised to hear the bathroom door open soon after he’d entered. The click of the lock had been more of a shock, but Will figured that Jack wouldn’t want their conversation walked in on. He didn’t think that a very public bathroom at the site of a crime scene was the place for the conversation at all, but Jack must have realized that Will wasn’t about to let him corner him for said conversation any time soon. Sighing, Will exited the stall he’d taken brief refuge in to take care of his “stomach issues”, ready to face an angry Jack…and was surprised yet again when he saw not his irate friend but Hannibal Lecter, watching him with some amusement.

“Feeling better, Will?” Lecter asked courteously. Will snorted.

“Much, seeing as it’s you standing there and not Jack. He wanted more than what I was giving him, didn’t like the little I managed. I think he felt that I admired Tier’s killer a little too much.”

“He did seem rather more agitated than usual.” Lecter stepped toward him, his smile taking a bit of an edge. “I, however, was very pleased.”

“I’m sure you were,” Will answered, swallowing against the sudden dryness in his throat. He moved to the sink and began to wash his hands, doing his best to ignore the predatory way that Lecter was moving toward him – and the spike of arousal that movement caused. “It’s what you want, isn’t it? Me, profiling my own kill, Jack none the wiser. Must have given you a real thrill.”

Lecter pressed himself against Will’s back, making him fully aware of just how much of a thrill he’d gotten watching him. Will’s body responded, pushed back against that hardness as warmth pooled between his legs. He hated that that was almost always his response to Lecter, but that didn’t stop him widening his legs just a little, his eyes fluttering as Lecter began to move lightly against him.

Lecter smirked, met Will’s eyes in the mirror as he leaned even closer to whisper into his ear. “I won’t deny that it was beautiful to see, but what I enjoyed the most was how little killing Randall Tier seemed to bother you. You showed not an ounce of guilt. Not in your voice, your face. Your scent.” Lecter dragged his nose against the side of Will’s neck, inhaled deeply, then reached his tongue out to taste. Will gasped, pushing more firmly against the body behind him. One of his hands reached down to touch himself, needing it, only to be stopped by another hand. Lecter took his hands and placed them on the sink, holding them there firmly with his own, forcing Will to lean forward slightly to keep his balance. This brought his backside into even fuller contact with Lecter’s front, and he let out a pleased noise that had shot straight to Will’s groin.

Lecter smiled against Will’s neck, then began to thrust in earnest, still whispering into Will’s ear and punctuating his sentences with nips and licks along his throat.

“You were so calm, my Will. So calm that I have a hard time believing you feel any remorse for your actions at all. Do you tell yourself that this death does not count because what you did, you did in self-defense? Do you believe that you had to display the body in such a manner to earn my trust? Or have you finally learned the pleasure in letting go, in giving in to what you really want? Have you finally – _ah_ – realized that it feels good to release the monster that lives inside of you?”

Lecter’s voice became unsteady towards the end, and his movements against Will grew less coordinated, turned more into graceless rutting than anything else. Will closed his eyes and opened his legs even wider. For some reason Lecter’s words ramped his arousal up even higher – perhaps it was that he could hear the man losing control as he spoke – and Will felt his body tightening in pained arousal, wanting to come but lacking the final thing that would push it over the edge.  Lecter gave him the push he needed. One of his hands left Will’s on the sink and slid to the front of his pants, deftly undoing button and zipper and sliding inside.

He palmed Will through his underwear, rubbing harshly as he thrust against his backside. His other hand also left Will’s and sank into his hair, gripping it and using that grip to pull his head to the side roughly, so that Lecter could latch his mouth to the side of Will’s throat, biting down to muffle a hoarse cry as he came against him.

That muffled sound combined with the vibration it made against his neck brought Will’s climax crashing down on him as well – he bit his lip hard to keep from making any noises of his own as his hips bucked hard into Lecter’s hand.

Lecter sagged against him for a moment, panting, mouth still locked on Will’s neck. Will took his weight as best he could, using the sink to hold them both up as his legs had become a bit wobbly. He opened his eyes and met Lecter’s gaze in the mirror once again, noticing that neither of them seemed to be able to focus particularly well. They were both shaking slightly. His lip was bleeding from where he’d bitten it, and Will licked at the blood absently. Lecter’s eyes caught this movement; Will watched, fascinated, as they glazed over slightly. Lecter’s lips parted as his gaze stayed on Will’s mouth, on the bit of blood still left on his bottom lip – he looked almost entranced, and in turn Will found he could not keep his own eyes off of him.

Eventually Lecter moved away from him, hand stroking Will one last time as it retreated from his pants and making him moan weakly from the feeling against his oversensitive flesh. Lecter moved to the other sink and briskly started washing his hands, averting his gaze from Will’s and keeping it averted as he straightened himself up, exited the bathroom and left Will to slump against the sink, wondering what had just happened, if he had started hallucinating again or if he had actually just witnessed the great Hannibal Lecter losing a bit of his iron control.

Will pondered that again as he stared at his phone, wondering what could have happened that would make Lecter cancel their appointment so soon before it was to take place – something he had never done before, as he considered it the height of rudeness. He couldn’t believe that Lecter had cancelled their weekly appointment simply because of what had happened in the museum, but it made a twisted kind of sense if he thought about it. That Will killing Tier had aroused Lecter he had no doubt – it had been painfully obvious. And yet, it was odd that he hadn’t been able to wait, that he’d chased Will into a public restroom in order to slake that desire instead of simply taking what he wanted during their next private meeting. It was very unlike him, and spoke of a staggering blow to the self-possession he wore like armor. Lecter had to know this, had to know Will would eventually figure it out, and he was – also uncharacteristically – choosing to hide from the inevitable confrontation.

The thought brought a triumphant smile to Will’s face. If Lecter was hiding, he was more vulnerable than Will had believed. It might prove easier to catch him than he’d thought. He shifted in his seat. The thought of Lecter running pleased him in more than one way. He’d have to be careful about that. His unfortunate inability to restrain himself where Lecter was concerned was just as much a problem as Lecter’s apparent inability to do the same. One of them would fall, he knew. He just had to keep enough control to ensure that it wasn’t him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know what to do. Hit that little comment button and let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> We still have plot! I know, I'm scared, too. 
> 
> Please, let me know what you think. Constructive criticism is always welcome.


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